


The King's Prisoner

by Cole_Atlas



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Drama, Blood and Gore, Dragons, Eventual Romance, Family Drama, M/M, Mates, Oral Sex, Punishment, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-11-02 12:15:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20742674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cole_Atlas/pseuds/Cole_Atlas
Summary: "Now, four years later, I almost forgot what it was like to be something other than human. I can vaguely remember what it felt like to shift and curl my claws against the ground to get a grip, but to stretch my wings and fly? That memory was long gone.Pacing in my cell was how I normally spent my days now. There was nothing else for me to do besides that or stare at the men in the cells around me. Each of us were confined permanently to our little cells, so we could never have a chance to escape. When we were fed, it was through a slot like we were all circus bears bred for nothing other than display. Most of us were too big for our five by five cells, but no one cared about that. We were all here because we did something unimaginably horrible. Our comfort wasn’t a high priority.'Alright prisoners!' The call from the guard grabbed my attention, but I didn’t get up from my spot on the pallet of decomposing straw that was meant to be my bed. It was too early to listen to his announcement. Then again, it could be one in the afternoon for all I knew. 'Today we have the King here. He is going to walk through the cells and pick someone to work for him.'"





	The King's Prisoner

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is something I actually worked on before I started college like... two years ago. I am editing and rewriting parts of it in my free time so I can get back into the habit of writing. I know I am bad with things like grammar, which is why I want to get back into the habit of writing again. Practice makes perfect right? Also, I am still in school so updates will likely be slow. I also appropriate all constructive criticism, but if you simply hate this can you not crush my soul with how bad you think it is? That would be great. My last little note is just a request that you pay attention to the tags. Since the story isn't complete, I may end up changing some of the tags as we go. I will add that in as a note when I have to add a new tag, but this is a warning since my brain does tend to get a little twisted and dark. If a tag pops up that you don't like, I apologize and you can probably skip the chapter that I indicate has that certain tag.

I miss being able to stretch my wings. The last time I was in my dragon form, I was twenty and hadn’t been sentenced to prison yet. Now, four years later, I almost forgot what it was like to be something other than human. I can vaguely remember what it felt like to shift and curl my claws against the ground to get a grip, but to stretch my wings and fly? That memory was long gone.

Pacing in my cell was how I normally spent my days now. There was nothing else for me to do besides that or stare at the men in the cells around me. Each of us were confined permanently to our little cells, so we could never have a chance to escape. When we were fed, it was through a slot like we were all circus bears bred for nothing other than display. Most of us were too big for our five by five cells, but no one cared about that. We were all here because we did something unimaginably horrible. Our comfort wasn’t a high priority.

“Alright prisoners!” The call from the guard grabbed my attention, but I didn’t get up from my spot on the pallet of decomposing straw that was meant to be my bed. It was too early to listen to his announcement. Then again, it could be one in the afternoon for all I knew. “Today we have the King here. He is going to walk through the cells and pick someone to work for him.” _The King was doing what with who?_ “As you all know, he is a son-of-a-bitch. If you survive his service, you will be free to walk away from the palace a free man. However, you must work there for half of your sentence otherwise it doubles so I advise you not to run. Those of you with life sentences, let's hope you aren’t picked because you would be there for fucking years.” The guard smiled at the occupant in the cell he was standing in front of. “Caler, let’s hope he picks your sorry ass.”

I could see Caler’s eyes flash from my spot five feet away, but he didn’t do anything. The guy was in here for murdering ten dragons in cold blood, but even he knew better than to draw attention to himself today. Working for the King would be like working for a slave driver. He wasn’t known for his kindness, even if there were roamers that he had never killed anyone with his bare hands.

“He will be here in half an hour. Start praying he doesn’t pick you, boys!” With that, the guard left us to our thoughts.

Several of my prison mates started to talk in animated voices, making sure everyone knew they would kill the King if he dared pick them for whatever he needed. I wasn’t too worried about it personally because I look nothing like most of the men around me. I was a staggering five-foot-ten, which put me a good six or more inches smaller than everyone else. I was also leaner since I wasn’t one to work out in my cell. I did a little to keep my body from losing all muscle, but the small amount of pacing and crunches only gave me enough to look human. I didn’t have a six-pack or incredibly toned arms like the rest of the men here. That meant I was safe. If the King needed a worker, his best bet would be the men who spent all day and night working out, not the twig of a dragon next to them.

It was only when the King and his entourage entered the room that I finally got nervous enough to press as far from the cell door as possible. Not that I was out of sight with my new position. Each of us were crammed into cells that were made of enforced tungsten bars. The strongest metal on the planet to try to keep in the strongest beasts known to roam the skies and earth in their places. These strong, two-inch bars did shit to hide anything we ever did.

“This is Smith Caler, sir,” The guard said as he led the King to the cell next to mine after working through three other rows of prisoners. Even Caler shrunk back into his cell and refused to make eye contact with the ruler of all dragons.

“What is his crime?” The King asked.

“He murdered dragons, your majesty.” As the guard spoke, I glanced at Caler again and watched as he flinched away from something. He never cared when someone said what he had done because it was a badge of honor. He always brags about the blood and the scales that had been dripping from his muzzle that day like it was his favorite dessert.

I turned to look at the King at that moment but found I couldn’t quite keep my gaze on his face. I could see the olive color of his skin and the tip of his long black hair that fell to his shoulders it a silky curtain. I could see his wide shoulders and the emerald shirt that clung to his torso like it had been glued into place, but I couldn’t shift my gaze upward to see his eyes or the set of his mouth.

“I do not want him.”

The comment was the only indication I had that the King and the guard were now moving to my cell. Once there, I heard my name. “This is Derek McKenna.”

_Oh, fuck. Fuck fuck. Fuck fuck fuck._

I felt eyes on me, and I felt like the rags on my body were being peeled away to reveal even my darkest secrets. I was curling into myself and trying to hide in nonexistent shadows within seconds.

“I want to see him.” The words didn’t register in my mind until I heard the click of the lock and the groan of the door as it opened for the first time in four years.

While I knew they were going to come in and make me leave the cell, I refused to move from my pallet until the guard physically came to pick me up. He set me down just outside of the cell door, directly in front of the King.

He hadn’t asked to see anyone up until this point. Why did he want to see me?

A hand grabbed my jaw and forced my head up the moment my feet were on the ground. I kept my eyes downcast knowing there was nothing else I could do. “Look at me.”

My eyes shot up to meet the King’s and my heart stopped. His eyes were green. No, not green. They were a perfect shade of emerald, like a gem that had been polished and shined until it was at its most pure color. It is rare, even in dragons, to have such an eye color. Dragons were the only breed of being that had eyes that were any color under the rainbow, but green like this was almost unheard of. I had thought his shirt was emerald, but now, it was dull forest green compared to the orbs staring at my face.

“What is your crime?” The King asked.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I just stood there with my mouth open and my eyes staring at that fascinating green before me. I could almost see my own reflection in them. 

“Answer me.” The order shot straight to my stomach, where a hand seemed to turn the organ upside down.

“Smuggling,” I barely breathed out.

Luckily, the guard next to us elaborated on my tale. “He was the head of a large smuggling scheme. They transported drugs, children, items, and more in and out of the territory.” There was a small pause as the guard seemed to consider his next words. “His sentence was five hundred years. He has only served four of those, your majesty.”

The King stared at me for a while. His long fingers gently turned my head back and forth then back until my throat was exposed and his thumb could trail from the underside of my chin to the base of my neck. As his thumb trailed down, he pressed against the sensitive flesh, forcing my breath to stop. When he reached the hollow point in the center of my collarbone, he finally stopped and used his thumb to tilt my chin back down so my gaze would meet his again.

With his gaze remaining on mine, the King said, “Get him cleaned up. I will be waiting outside.”

*****

Getting cleaned for the King was a long process. I was scrubbed everywhere repeatedly. Over and over I was rubbed raw by cloths that felt like they were cousins with sandpaper. Once I was deemed clean enough for our King, I was rubbed down with scented lotion that made my nose crinkle. It made me smell like wood and not the pleasant kind where it would allude to a natural scent. Instead, it smelled cheap and almost chemical. It must have once belonged to a human. No dragon would dare wear something like this.

Even though I hated the scent, there was nothing I could do besides let the guards paw at me and pull clothes onto my body to mask at least part of the scent. Unfortunately, the clothes I was to use today were the clothes I had come to the jail in. They were too big for me. I had lost a significant amount of weight over the last four years and I had to use a spare belt from the guards to keep my pants from falling off my hips. It was at that point I got a quick glimpse of myself in a mirror in one of the bathrooms I had been permitted to use in this cleaning process, but I didn’t recognize myself.

My appearance had never been anything spectacular even if I was always one of the more appealing men in my little part of the village. I had dark brown hair that could mimic black in certain lights and I had blue eyes that had random strokes of violet towards the irises. My skin tone had always been pale, but I used to have a nice tan from being outside. Now, that tanned glow had been replaced by an eerie shade of grey that made me look sick. My only truly unique feature was the small amount of ink peeking out from under the bottom of my left sleeve. 

That small peek of my tattoo was enough to give me the strength to leave the bathroom and follow the guards to my fate.

It took us about ten minutes to navigate the halls and to unlock doors before we stepped outside of the prison. Above, the grey skies smiled down at me. I was so close to being away from the jail even if it meant working for a tyrant that would kill me within a few years.

At least those years would be spent closer to the sky and closer to freedom.

“McKenna.” The King spoke my last name as if it were an order. I met his gaze and knew he was trying to simply get my attention. I had not done anything wrong except to turn my face up to the sky and to hesitate in my steps or so I hoped. “We have to fly back, can you transform?”

Knowing those emeralds were on me didn’t change the fact that I shrunk back at the idea of changing. I had longed to stretch out my wings and fly, but how could I do it after four years of nothing?

“Answer me.” I had hesitated too long and the King was annoyed.

“I don’t know sir,” I answered truthfully.

There was a pause before the air around me began to fill with smoke that would have matched the King’s eyes if it had been dense enough. I watched as the smoke engulfed the King’s form and mask him enough that I could only see the outline as his body grew and bent until he was on all fours. Only then did the smoke fade, leaving me face to face with a beast that towered over me.

Just like my surprise at his eyes, I stood there and gazed at every inch of the dragon before me. His scales were as black as his hair and seemed to gleam like they had been freshly painted with the darkest black paint available. The only color on his body was in the wings. As the King stretched them out to let them settle more comfortably on his back, he gave a glimpse of the green that wove itself into the webbing of the massive wings.

It was a magnificent color.

“Transform.” As the King gave his order, I felt my body shudder. It wanted so badly to be in its natural form, and the order made it so I would shift regardless if my mind remembered how.

It took me a moment, but I found my feet under me and my wings stretched to show that my light grey body looked solid even on my wings where I should have had a small amount of color.

Four years and I forgot what it felt like to really dig my nails into the ground and have the fresh dirt crawl up to my wrist. I had thought earlier that it would just feel dirty. Now, it felt like I was curling my claws into heaven.

“Follow.” Just like every direct order he had already given today; I was forced to follow as the King led his entourage and myself back to his estate. It would be a long flight for me because my muscles decayed years ago, but it still felt like freedom to feel the wind whistle past my ears and along my spine. If I could, I would never land again.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, now that you have reached the end of chapter one... what do you think? I know you only see a little of the characters here, but I am needy and want to know opinions. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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